Until Our Paths Cross Again
by JasNutter
Summary: Sherlock Holmes doesn't believe in fate. John Watson can't help but believe in fate. (All Ratings; M for later chapters)


"Harry!" John hurried after his sister's long strides, tripped on his shoelaces, stumbled and almost fell over. "_Harry!" _

"Oh piss off."

"Mum said to wait here!"

"So _wait_ here." Harry twisted around to glare at him, throwing out her arms and not slowing down. She turned a corner.

John tripped again, let out one of Harry's favorite words and, scandalized, looked around to see if anyone had heard. Once assured that no one had, he tucked his laces into the sneakers. It wasn't as though he couldn't tie them – they just never stayed tied. It wasn't his fault.

He ran around the corner.

"_Harry, _you'll get into trouble _again_!"

But his sister's bony body was already disappearing into a store down the street. He walked up to it, groaning anxiously, and through the glass doors he could see her leaning against the counter, her already "too short", according to mum, skirt hiking up her thighs. With the overly baggy jacket covering most of her upper body, it looked as though she'd forgotten her trousers. John watched as she made eyes at the guy in the weird striped shirt behind the counter.

It was so gross. John groaned again. Harry _always _did this.

"Oh shut up, I'm trying to think."

John started and whipped around, eyes landing on a small boy, smaller than him and much skinner than him. His face was pale and pointed under a wild mop of black hair and his eyes were far too big on his face. And far too piercing as well. It made John uncomfortable.

"Who're you?" He asked.

"None of your business," the boy snapped and turned back to look through the glass door. John stared at him for a bit, shrugged and joined the boy's vigil. He probably took the 'don't talk to strangers' thing a bit too seriously.

"Why do you call her Harry?" the boy piped up unexpectedly, making John start again."She's a girl."

John looked at him, wondering if he was for real. He opened his mouth to voice this question and got interrupted. This boy _was_ rather rude.

"D'yu know she's going to shop lift beer?"

A surge of indignation passed through him and John glowered angrily, although, yes, Harry was probably going to swipe those cans. It was another one of those things she was always doing.

"No she isn't!" He frowned.

The boy shrugged and jerked his curly head towards the window. They both watched in silence as Harry slyly slipped a can into the overly baggy jacket.

"Told you so", he said smugly."Should've made a wager."

John bristled in embarrassment.

"Yeah well…" he groped around wildly for a retort and the boy looked at him in amusement, only vexing him further.

"She's fourteen. She can do what she likes."

The boy looked as though he might laugh. His lips were twitching.

"It's against the law", he informed John, as though John didn't know that.

Immediately, John's irritation was rapidly giving away to a sharp tweak of apprehension. He'd seen what criminals did to other criminals on the telly, only last night in fact. One bald guy had taken a beating so bad he looked worse than Mum used to when Dad was alive. John shuddered and felt slightly sick. He didn't want it to happen to Harry.

"Are you gonna tell?" He asked nervously, hands twisting together of their own accord, wishing he had something to bribe the boy with. A half eaten chocolate bar rested in the right pocket of his shorts but he doubted that would be enough.

The boy was regarding him thoughtfully. John stood tensely, eyes shifting to watch Harry as she burst through the entrance and strode away, not looking back and seeming to forget John existed. They both watched as she left, hands shoved deep in her pocket.

"Why would I? The boy finally said, turning back to the shop. "I only even bothered looking because I was bored." John let out a breath of relief.

I'm waiting for Mummy." He continued and jerked his head again, this time towards a tall lady indoors who was dressed from head to toe in black, a large black hat shaped like a flying saucer tilted at such an impossible angle on her head that John wondered how it even stayed on. She seemed to be in a rather heated arguement with some piggy old guy and her black handbag swung, almost smacking him on the face, as she gesticulated furiously.

"Why is she so mad?" John asked curiously.

"That's the manager", he explained, untangling his fingers from where they were tucked behind his back and shoving them into his pockets, suddenly sulky. "Seems to think I dropped a dead rat on him."

Dead rat? John shifted.

"Did you?"

The boy turned to him, giving him a calculating look. He seemed to be having an internal debate. Clearly deciding it wouldn't matter anyway, he shrugged.

"Yes", he said simply and John gaped.

"_Why?" _

Scowling, the boy huffed. "I didn't do it on _purpose." _

"How do you accidentally drop a dead rat on a person?"

"Mind your own business, will you!" he said irritably and pouted for a while. "I was sitting on the roof, examining it, and it fell out of my hands", he continued. "It wasn't my fault he was standing on the way."

He was right. It wasn't.

"Well", John said, "I brought a dead cat home once."

That brought the too large eyes on him again. "Really? What for?"

"It was breathing when I took it in", John explained. "It was wounded, see? And so I laid it on Harry's bed and bandaged it, right? But then Mum came home and she'd brought one of those ice-cream cakes with the chocolate in the middle. You know those?"

"Yeah, my brother eats three of them a day."

"I would too, if Mum let me."

"The cat", he reminded.

"Oh yeah. Well and then I forgot about it and it kinda died. And Harry found it later and screamed like anything."

The boy sniggered. "Did you get into trouble?"

John shook his head, smiling as the memory of Harry's stricken face surfaced in his mind. "No, I was pretty upset. We buried it in the back yard."

"Did you cry?"

"A little bit", John admitted, unsure of why he did. There was something about the boy that made him want to tell the truth, he felt as though he'd know even if he lied. "I was only six."

"I'm six now", the boy said solemnly.

"I'm seven." John told him proudly. "I'm in the second grade."

"Me too." Inside his mother could be heard shrieking. John scoffed.

"How can you be six and in the second grade?"

"Because I'm smart", he stated haughtily. "Everyone is very stupid. Even in second grade."

"That's not every nice of you to say", John told him, feeling slightly insulted.

The boy shrugged flippantly. "It's only true."

John would have said something, but right at that moment the tall, pretty lady with the U.F.O shaped hat stepped out of the store, cheeks flushed a pale pink. She exhaled heavily and straightened her hat, blinking a couple of times. Her eyes then landed on John, and she regarded him with faint disdain, as though he were something vaguely nasty.

"Come along, Sherlock", she sniffed, and walked away, heels rapping on the concrete. Mum never wore heels like that. He watched as Sherlock trailed after her, and called out a faint "bye".

The boy looked over his shoulder and quirked a smile. "See you."

John looked at their retreating backs for a moment, the little boy jogging a bit to keep up with his mother. He then wandered idly back around the corner, hands in his pockets, and walked straight into his frantic mum.

"There you are!" She quite nearly shrieked. "Don't just walk off, Johnny, how many times I have to tell you! I was so worried." She held out a hand that was free of grocery bags, and John reluctantly took it.

"Sorry Mum".

"Where's Harry?"

He shrugged. "Took off again."

"Oh well", she said, sighing tiredly. "I bought us pie. We can share it in front of the telly once you finish your homework."

John nodded absently, mind still on the queer boy with the too intense eyes. How did he know Harry would steal the beer? What was his name?

He forgot all about it an hour later, curled up next to his mum with a mouthful of pie, engrossed in another movie with a lot of bad men and a lot of cops.

* * *

_So basically a growing up fic for a prompt where Sherlock and John meet very early in their lives. Um Multi-chaptered and I've got the outline done so I'm working around it. Please leave a review. ^_^ _


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